Page 28 of Hell In A Handbasket
“Kane used to be like that. Obsessed with the damn thing. It was concerning, really.”
“Jessica Ann!” He pushes to his feet and grabs her like she’s nothing more than a potato sack, picking her up and carrying her back to his booth. “Stop talking about my dick when I’m trying to focus.”
“Focus on what?” She laughs. “This ain’t work, Bishop. This is a late lunch. They’re not our enemies.”
“Us?” I bring my attention back to Soph. “You brought your soldiers like you need protection from us?”
She folds over her bowl of fries and inhales them too fast to ensure each has been chewed. “We’re in a new place, and we’ve got all the Malones in one room. Precaution is better than reaction.”
“What does our being in the same room have to do with anything?” Archer comes up on Soph’s other side and rests his elbow on the counter, leaning and searching her eyes. “Solomon? What have you done?”
“I didn’t do anything!” She gratefully accepts a plated burger and double fists the packed buns so none of the fillings fall out. “I was aware Christabelle was getting close to full term, and Tim and Aubree are hitched now. I’m used to dealing with you two. Maybe Tim, too. Sometimes. Rarely. Now we have all five, and tempers are already a little hot.”
“Why are tempers hot?” I clutch Soph’s shoulder and jerk her around. “We’ve been amenable in the past. Why do you assume tempers are hot now?”
The diner door opens again, the bell above jingling, wild and loud. But I focus only on Soph. On the guilt that flashes across her face.
“Sophia? What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Boss?”
Stunned, I spin in my seat and lock eyes with Raquel.MyRaquel. Copeland City Raquel. I blink once. Twice. A third time. And when that doesn’t help, I shake my head and slide off the stool and onto my feet. “Doctor Raquel? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Uh… I could ask you the same thing.” She wanders in wearing denim shorts, flip-flops, a tank top, and what I know is a bikini beneath it all, considering the strings that hang over her chest. She saunters to the counter with two fingers pointed to the sky—like two means something to the server—then she rotates and rests her elbows on top. She looks over our crowd and dips her chin in hello. “Detective Fletcher. You’re wearing the wrong outfit for vacation.” And while he looks down at his jeans and shirt, she scans the others. “I know some of these faces. Not all of them.”
“I’m Jess.” Jess fights Kane’s grip, slapping his hands away and stumbling out of the booth and onto her own two feet. “Ellie, Jen, Kane. Jay, Corey, Spencer.” She points to each, one after the other, then she looks to the Malones. “You probably know them, since you know Mayet.”
“Christabelle Cannon,” Aubree picks up the baton. “She’s Felix’s. You probably know Micah and Felix already. And I know you know Tim and,” she gestures toward the window. “Cato.”
“Why are you here?” I slap my case file closed, frustration beating like a drum in my veins. “You’re supposed to be at a wedding this weekend, no? That’s what you said.”
“Oh no. Oh, oh, oh, no.” Alarmed, Raquel straightens out and takes a step toward the door. “Don’t do that, kid.”
“Don’t do…” I follow her gaze to Cato and the pretty girl outside. “Don’t do what?”
He grabs her, smiling and flirty and a little too friendly. And like she’s the Hulk in disguise, she folds his hand back in a flash, flipping him with a violence that brings Felix racing to the door, then she lays him out on the sidewalk with a thud that, I could swear, rocks the ground.
“Oh shit!” Jen bounces off Corey’s lap and sprints to the door. “Dude! You okay?”
“The fuck?” Micah darts through the door. “Hey!”
“Don’t touch unless you’ve been invited to touch!” The woman stands over Cato’s flattened body and slams her foot to his wrist, pinning it to the ground when he’d rather stroke her leg. “No!”
“Don’t kill her!” Raquel sprints outside and into the street, skidding onto the hot black tar and squeezing herself between the girl and an enraged Micah. “Chief!? Little help, please.”
I leave my bag and case file behind. I leave Soph, too, and striding through the diner door and over the sidewalk, I step into the street and cross to our newest friggin’incident. Finally, I look down at an entirely too smiley Cato and blink. Blink. Blink. “What the hell are you doing?”
“He grabbed me,” the girl—a woman surely, but barely older than Cato himself—folds her arms. “I didn’t say he could.”
“I like a dominant woman,” Cato purrs. “Turns me on.”
“Gross,” Raquel groans. “That’s my baby sister, man.”
“Your sister?” I look from one blonde to the next. Same eyes, same plump lips. Hell, they have the same cheek structure and almond-shaped eyes. But it can’t be… I can’t… my brain doesn’t…
Puzzled, I glance back at the diner in search of help. Backup. A freakin’ explanation, maybe. But Sophia remains at the counter, eating her meal, and Archer merely stares with one hand pressed to his bare hip and the other to Felix’s shoulder to hold him back.
